Yes, No, Or maybe So?
by xAriesx
Summary: Just a quick two-shot on Peeta's and Katniss' love life, (or lack thereof)!
1. Chapter 1

At first I say no, turning my back to Peeta. He says a quiet, "Alright." As he goes back to kneading his bread dough. Guilt twinges inside me. Only Peeta, with his gentleness, would ask a question of such.

It catches me off guard once again when he asks only a few days later. "No Peeta." I say, trying to add a little emphasize on the 'no' part. I need him to understand I am not ready of such activities. I just… can't.

I see frustration in his eyes now, and guilt continues to trip me. I want to give it to him, I really do. I don't know what is holding me back. I am too afraid. Of course, all of my biggest fears have already came true with the reaping… And the killing… and Prim's death.

I shake my head, forcing myself to come back to reality before I go into a breakdown, falling onto the floor and start hyperventilating. I feel then that my decision is for the best for both of us. I truly believe what I am holding away from Peeta is not selfish, but it would be the best of both worlds to not have to worry about it right now. That doesn't mean though that I still don't have remorse for Peeta, and hatred towards myself for what I can not give him.

Peeta asks about it again only a month later. "It will relieve some of your stress." Peeta says, and I am surprised that I do actually believe him. "Maybe it will even help with keeping your nightmares away, you never know." Peeta says.

That I can't believe.

Poor Peeta. I know he wants to do it. And I know it would deepen the connection between us.

I also know that it is biology trying to do its job.

Only Peeta, with his gentleness, would ask me if we could make love.

The next time he asks, I try to explain. "I'm not sure Peeta. It scares me. You even said yourself once that I was so _pure._ So modest. That's not something that can be flicked off like a switch. You know that. I know that. Why do you think I can just accept it?" I say, frustrated with him. It almost feels like I am being forced into it.

But I know Peeta would never force it on me. And that's one of the reasons I love him so much. So much… That I should give him this. This one thing. Just to show him how much I do love him. It's hard to see under all of the pain, and the hurt, the darkness, and the nightmares. But our love is there. And it's been that way since our first games.

And it always will be.

"I'm sorry. I'll stop asking." Peeta says, inviting me to come lay my head on his chest. I accept the invitation, squeezing in next to Peeta and comfortably laying my head down on his chest. He rubs my shoulder lightly to give me the comfort that he won't be pressuring me anymore.

"Okay." I say, my voice cracks a little from its little use.

I was so deep in thought that I didn't realize Peeta stopped rubbing my shoulder comfortingly. I didn't realize he was probably already asleep.

I almost close my eyes, thinking Peeta is asleep, almost relieved I don't have to tell him tonight, when he hums quietly, "Hm?"

My heart sinks again, only after becoming afloat for so little time. I prepare myself to say it again, "Yes."

Peeta seems confused, "What do you mean yes? Yes to what?"

I realize right there that I am probably the biggest moron in the country of Panem. He asked the question an hour ago, then said he would stop asking, and then here I come waltzing around saying yes to a question he hasn't even asked in the past hour.

Of fucking course he wouldn't know what I am talking about.

I consider myself damn lucky that it is dark, because I can almost feel the heat radiating off my cheeks.

"We can give it a try." I say, hoping to god he knows what I mean. I slide off of his chest as he props himself up on one elbow, trying to get a better look at me.

"You just said that we could give it a try. Real or not real?" Peeta asks, and I can see, even in the darkness, his eyes radiate hope.

"Real I am saying yes." I say, gulping down saliva that seems to be producing spontaneously my mouth feels the opposite effects of dryness.

While I am in the middle of thinking about my saliva, Peeta suddenly presses his lips to me softly, and my disgusting thoughts dissipate as I also try to kiss him back just as softly and warmly.

Peeta pulls apart first, "I was thinking you would never say yes."

I shrug as my only response.

Peeta lays back down, and so do I. I rest my head once again on his chest.

"Not tonight?" I ask, trying to feel relieved.

I can feel Peeta shake his head, "Not tonight. But when it is the night, I will try to make it as special as I can." He says.

I make a silent vow to myself that I will try my best to make it, when the night comes, a very special experience for Peeta.

I wake up from a nightmare only hours later, gasping for air and sweating. I try my best to hold my tears at bay. Peeta is roused slightly, and he is awake enough to notice my distress. He tightens his arms around me sleepily, whispering kind words to me.

He doesn't know he was the one who caused my nightmare.

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _ **A/N:**_ _This is my first Hunger Games fanfiction, however what you may NOT know is that I wrote this about a year ago._

 _Maybe you recognize the story, but not the Author? Don't be threatened. No, I didn't rip off on some other authors work. This is indeed my work. However, I published this on another account that was dedicated to the Hunger Games fandom. Considering this is my main account, I will be publishing everything on this one now! The other account I had is completely abandoned, so that's that._

 _I apologise, because now a year after writing this, Katniss does indeed sound OOC. However, it WAS my first Hunger Games fanfiction that I ever wrote, so I am keeping it, no matter how much I may OR may NOT despise it. You'll never know._

 _Enjoy!_


	2. Chapter 2

It was the kind of dream that was more vivid than usual. I am not talking about the kind that makes you wake up in puddles of sweat, or the kind that wakes you up, and makes you cry.

I am talking about the kind that you wake yourself up from your screaming, the kind that you wake up with a puddle of tears around you. I am talking about the kind of dreams that drive you on the brink of insanity.

I lost my sanity long ago, with little hope to bring it back. What brung some of it back, was definitely no 'what'. It was a who, and it was Peeta. And now suddenly, her basis of dreams are mainly driven with what Peeta has been bugging her with. Now she really believes her sanity is gone forever.

It's the same dream every time. I dream that the games never ended. Peeta and I are mentors, mentoring children after children, them all dying in wasteful, bloody deaths. I dream Peeta and I had a kid, due to our intimacy.

Our child is reaped into the games. No, not someone else I love. No. Beg someone to volunteer. I volunteer myself. Someone says no. They take my child. We are on the train. Peeta and I train her to the best of our abilities. She's only 13. She can't die. Not someone else. Not someone else. Why did this happen? She's thrown into the arena. She runs straight to the cornucopia. She reached for a knife. An arrow goes through her head. _No! NO!_ I scream.

I wake myself up from my thrashing and my echoing, loud 'No's.' bouncing off the blank walls of the house. My pillow is soaked with either tears, or sweat. It's probably both. I turn over to Peeta, who is looking at me wide-eyed.

"It's okay. It's okay. Come here Katniss." He says, reaching for me. I immediately scoot up next to him, laying down on the crook of his arm. He pulls me even closer than I thought we could be. He wraps his other arm around me, almost completely enclosing me in him. I shake my head to the best of my abilities, since my head is basically almost wrapped up with his arms.

"I can't do this. Any of this. I am sorry Peeta. I can't do it though. I am going to go crazy. Please, no." I say. I am nearly gasping for air.

Somehow, he knows what I am talking about. "I get it. It's okay. We don't have to. Calm down. It's okay." He says, trying to soothe me to the best of his abilities.

I do calm down, but it takes hours. And he stays awake with me right up until the moment I actually do manage to fall asleep, but it's only for a few hours. I can't stand more than that. Too much of a threat of being thrown into that dream again.

Peeta keeps refreshing my memory on how he said we don't have to do it. That only calms me down in the moment, but I still have threatening dreams about it. I fear that these dreams and this newly reborn fear that it is here to stay.

I never have a break from the dream, it happens _every night._ Same exact dream, and it wakes me up in the same exact way. I hope to god that I will atleast get use to it, waking up in less dramatic ways.

I become more depressed, more than usual when I have episodes of dreams like this. I don't feel like eating. Peeta puts down plates for me, plates of food that I would usually inhale the second it was set down. Instead, I stare into the fire, letting the food sit there till it gets cold.

Haymitch joins us for lunch one day, which is of no use because I let my food sit cold. I play with it with my fork, staring at it as if I was bored. I could feel Peeta eyeing me out of the corner of his eye, hoping I have eaten something.

I had to admit, I did lose a little weight. Not much to become alarmed, but nonetheless, it worried Peeta.

Haymitch started chuckling, "God damn, I can see the pounds dropping off you! Are you on a diet, sweetheart?" Haymitch said, shaking his head and drinking straight from the bottle of his expensive white liquor. His words rubbed me the wrong way, and I looked him straight in the eyes, giving him a look.

He realized in that moment that wasn't the best thing to say, "Okay, not funny." I nodded my head fiercely, "You know, you seem to make a lot of damn jokes that aren't funny." I say, slamming my fork on the plate. It makes a loud clanking sound that echos as I stand up without another word, and walk up the stairs.

I don't cry at all during this. I am too emotionally exhausted.

Only a couple of nights later, I go into a complete meltdown. I wake up, screaming. This time, I stay screaming as I realize I am still awake. I scream until my throat feels so tender I can't even talk. It scared the living hell out of Peeta, looking over to me, seeing my eyes wide open and screaming.

He jumped out of bed, thinking someone was in our house. He soon realized that there was no one actually there, but in my head I saw dozens of dead people around us.

"Katniss, Katniss! Shut your eyes! It's not real, it's not real!" He explained hurriedly, trying to get me to calm down.

I did as he said, but only to see the exact same thing as when I had my eyes open. I shook my head, screaming and crying at once. He held me close, whispering kind words in my ear. I gasped as I tried to regain my breath. He stroked the back of my head gently, letting me soak his shirt with my tears.

He shushed me after many hours of coaxing me to lay down. I knew I wasn't going to sleep for a while yet, and I was surprised to see Peeta wasn't either. Each time I threatened to break into a bundle of tears again, he shushed me softly, rubbing my shoulder, or my back, or lightly playing with my hair. Lucky for him, it calmed me down enough. All that was left of me was an extremely red face, puffy eyes, and a hiccup that happened periodically.

I kiss him as much as I need to, which happened every other minute. It gave me a feeling of closeness, and a sense of security. He happily accepted them, giving me just as warm as a kiss back.

I think he knew that I just plainly needed him right now.

That's when a hunger raised up from my belly, a hunger for even more closeness. Peeta and I both knew that is was born of emotional need.

And after, I took comfort in knowing that I did it on my own terms.


End file.
